How do I describe this blog?
A line from "Old School" with a minor tweak.
"My friends, this is a safe place. A place where we can feel free sharing our feelings. Think of my blog as a nest in a tree of trust and understanding. We can say anything here."

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

It is over 2007

Dear 2007,

Not a day passes that you don't tell me how important I am or how much you love me, but those are just words. What I need are actions that convey how you can't live without me and would do anything to keep me. I need someone loony-bin, arsonist crazy about me. Someone willing to do anything and everything to keep me.

2007, that's just not you. While it does feel like you love me, it's not a smothering, obsessive, borderline psychotic love. It’s more of an unneurotic, trusting, open-mouthed love with luke-warm infatuation at best. There's no jealousy, no vindictiveness, no sense of possession. For christ sake, you haven't even given me a cell phone so you can call me when you need something important: Like knowing where I am all the time. Trust is nice, but is paranoia too much to ask in a relationship?

Honestly, 2007, in the 365 days that we have been together, how many times have you bashed a beer bottle over the head of some bitch who made eye contact with me or accidentally brushed against me as they passed? Or pepper sprayed an overfriendly sales clerk? I'll tell you how many times, the same number of times you tattooed my name in cursive on your pudgy little butt: None.

Sure, you'll probably cry over our breakup, be heartbroken for a month, but that's not good enough. The year for me would call, start crying and begging to get back together. When that didn't work the year would threaten me, immediately apologize, and offer me money, jewelry, deviant sex or anything else I wanted to get back together.

2007, I'm not asking you to kill yourself if you lose me, but a half-hearted effort of washing a package of Dexatrim down with a bottle of Nyquil so you at least would have to get your stomach pumped would be a nice gesture.

Jesus, 2007, you just don’t get it do you? I hope we can be friends.

Mr. Shife

P.S. Enclosed are some chocolates - no hard feelings. Just go ahead and eat them.

Oh Mr. Shife, you know what they say; be careful what you wish for. Sure, 2007 was a lady, watch out, 2008 is a psycho. Late night phone calls. The bricks through the front window. Cops knocking on the door. Is that what you really want?